


A wall of steel and flame

by Ruuuka



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Jotunn | Frost Giant, M/M, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24323431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruuuka/pseuds/Ruuuka
Summary: Things are going according to Odin’s plans in this AU. Loki has yet to find out about his Jotunn heritage, and the time to unveil the secret is near. The Allfather means for him to marry into Jotunheim and thus become a token of alliance between their nations.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	A wall of steel and flame

“Thor?” his voice trembled more than he wanted to show, his legs carried him more hurried than he was telling them to. The corridors he passed were swimming, he needed air, he needed a cooler ground under him, he needed the stability that was Thor. It’s been a while that he had reached out to him like this, they’d been growing distant since they were old enough to join battles. But now, after that startling turn that shook up his unguarded soul, now that nothing seemed to help, Thor might still. His dim-witted comments, his light-hearted mockeries of the gravest situations might cast a new light on this injustice as well, showing a way out, a side Loki hadn’t discovered yet in his panicked daze.

“Thor!” the yell escaped his throat unthinking as he heard the thunder god’s distant voice from the training grounds, and he sped up to have his attention as soon as possible.

“Aye, what’s eating you, brother?” Thor winked at him in the sun-lit yard as he got into sight. “You look pale as a ghost.”

Panting mostly from the lingering panic, Loki’s upper arm leaned to a protective column unconsciously while he noted that his brother wasn’t alone; as it should have been expectable, he was surrounded by his usual entourage, his equally bloated friends. Although they waited patiently for the younger prince’s announcement, their eyes were measuring him with scornful glee, ready to mock a sensitive spot upon sight. It may or may not have been rightful, Loki may or may not have played certain pranks on them occasionally; but he was definitely not up to giving them this long-lasting ground for derision.

“On second thought, it’s not even your concern,” he breathed with a thin veil of nonchalance over his dismay before he turned on his heel stiffly and hurried away. His ears still deciphered the cheerful yells questioning his lofty retreat, promising his freedom to confide in the group, barely caring to hide from their tones the expectation to be entertained. They would get a good laugh from this without doubt. Loki’s cheeks burned at the thought that he was about to uncover it before these buffoons that never took anything seriously. Thor would have laughed, too, but Thor was so much closer ( _used to be_ , that is), they used to share everything back then, and the inclination to face hardships together was still in their bones. Only, Thor had these friends now so similar to his own nature, and he would have told them about the foul situation Loki was put in, for the shared amusement. And Loki was not going to be a laughing matter at this. This was a grave matter, at stake was the remaining years of his life. His dignity. His heart. His access to the immense knowledge kept in Asgard’s libraries. His freedom to go wherever he pleased. His right to stay here, amidst the warm gleam of gold.

Because presently, he was to be cast away from here into the land of eternal winter. The land of monsters. He was to wed one of them, and thus bind the two realms in a personal affair.

It had been planned for a long time, his keen senses for telltale signs had derived it fast. But how long? When had it been decided that he was to be second? How? On what ground? When had this competition been ended without announcing it? He did not, he would not think about that, not while he was still bent on being a good son. All was not lost yet, he was still home, no treaties had been signed, it had been a mere hour or so, a moment.

 _Laufey’s daughter_ , his lips had repeated soundlessly.

Something about this had felt awfully wrong from the start. From the moment Father had entered his chambers once in this life to converse with him. Loki had been so surprised, so reverent over the civility of the gesture that he was too busy making the cleanly area worthy of Father’s offered time, and his aloofness remained secondary. For a minute, just one minute, he had even foolishly thought this was the day his hard work paid off, and he’d grown to be Thor’s equal. Just like that, by a visit.

The sensation of trying to reason with a brick wall, whenever his view at a matter was different from Father’s, usually annoyed him to no end; this time, it weighed on him with a suffocating force. He felt his voice weak, although he acted out the perfectly chosen demeanour as always. The tension accumulated in his fingers intertwined above his lap, in a white-knuckled clutch while he listed arguments in the meekest wrapping – he knew that a direct assault only strengthened Odin’s immovable fort. The outcome was the same, however, their well practiced play: Loki’s fierce labour to _exist_ , and Father’s effortless denial of it.

The King’s brow was dark, his gesture of getting up a clear indication that the debate had reached an end.

 _She is sent for a visit after High Moons. You will grow attached to her, you’ll see_ , he said with a softness that lacked rigour because it simply did not count on any resistance.

A monster was going to visit, children would see images in their story books come alive. And then they would watch Loki, the Sorcerer Prince, keep her company. They might start thinking he was one of _them_. Some stories told about Frost Giants hiding their appearance under the skins of the Aesir they have murdered.

Loki was shivering from the chilled sweat on his skin in the warm breeze. He closed his eyes and took one last dip into the helplessness that Father’s commanding insistence could induce at times, though not as strongly as today. Today, his mind overflowed with the idea that he was not Loki, not a son, not a brother, not a prince, but a tool used for a grander purpose, an object of barter, a pawn on the checkered board. Nameless. Faceless. Heartless.

When he reached the bottom, he didn’t linger; he forced himself to kick away from it and lunge upwards. He _was_ a son, the good son. He may not have allies at this, but he had an undaunted heart, a sharp wit, a capable tongue. What sounded between them today were just words, nothing more. Words had no power over action if your mind was alert. And they damn sure had no power over Silvertongue.

It was time to take things into his hands. It was time to be Loki.


End file.
